


I Saw Crowley Kissing Santa Claus

by TrekBec82



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale as Santa, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Miracles, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:54:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21716461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrekBec82/pseuds/TrekBec82
Summary: Written for Oh Come All Ye Sinful, A Depraved Holiday Exchange - a joint event between the M25 and Ineffable Temptations Discord Servers for Christmas 2019 - using the prompt “set before the events of the TV show, Aziraphale dresses as Santa Claus to hand out gifts at an orphanage, only to find Crowley is one of the caretakers there.”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7
Collections: Oh Come All Ye Sinful! A Depraved Holiday Exchange 2019





	I Saw Crowley Kissing Santa Claus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CatofApocalypse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatofApocalypse/gifts).



> Special thanks to my lovely friend and editor, Rachel. You can find her on Tumblr as [WritKit](http://writkit.tumblr.com).
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Merry Christmas! Joyeux Noël! Buon Natale! Feliz Navidad! Nollaig Shona Dhuit!  
> (Happy Hanukkah, Joyous Kwanzaa, and Blessed Yule, too!)

**_Christmas 2019_ **

Armageddon was1 averted. Both Heaven and Hell were2 outwitted. Aziraphale and Crowley - after 6023 years of slow burn - had _finally_ acknowledged their feelings for one another. So it came to be, as the year drew to a close, they sat on Aziraphale’s couch (Crowley sprawling across the angel in addition to most of the seating space,) reminiscing about times gone by. Old habits dying rather harder than new ones, they’d shared several bottles of wine, and become rather tipsy. 

Aziraphale, absentmindedly running his fingertips over the lanky denim-clad leg draped across his lap, asked, “Do you remember that Christmas I visited the orphanage dressed as Santa Claus, and discovered you working there?”  
“‘Course I remember, Angel. You nearly gave me a heart attack, turning up unannounced like that.”  
“I was not at all unannounced. I’d prearranged it with the caretaker in charge, she knew I was coming to visit.”  
“Yes, but you didn’t tell _me_ ,” Crowley argued.  
“I didn’t know I needed to, if you’ll recall.”  
“I recall just fine, thank you. You turned up, bright red suit, sack of presents, half a dozen reindeer, and the bushiest snow-white beard this side of the Arctic. It didn’t suit you _at all_.”  
“That beard suited me quite well I thought, for being in character,” Aziraphale countered.  
“Oh yes, it was very in character, just not very _you_.”

The argument continued in this lighthearted vein for some time, until Crowley sat up and silenced Aziraphale with a kiss.  
“I wish I could have done that back then,” he said.  
“It probably would have required mistletoe.”  
“I should have miracled some mistletoe. Thought about it, actually. Didn’t want to risk getting caught under it with the matron, though. Would have been more trouble than it was worth.”  
“Yes, I daresay it would have been. Should we put mistletoe up this year, do you think?” Aziraphale asked.  
“No need. I can kiss you whenever I want, no parasitic plant cuttings required.” Crowley tucked a stray curl behind Aziraphale’s ear, and kissed him again, a half-smile gracing his lips.

“Imagine if there had been mistletoe, and the children had seen us kissing under it. Would have given new meaning to that silly Christmas song,” Aziraphale remarked.  
_🎶 “I saw Nanny kissing Santa Claus, underneath the mistletoe last night,” 🎶_ Crowley crooned.  
Aziraphale let out a huff of laughter. “Yes, something like that. They didn’t call you Nanny though, did they?”  
“It was only ever Warlock I was Nanny to, but the sentiment holds true enough.”  
“You never did tell me how you ended up working at an orphanage at Christmastime.”  
“Didn’t I?”  
“No you didn’t, you wily old serpent. You slithered your way out of answering me back then, and you know it!”  
“Hmm. Well I suppose there’s no harm in telling you now that we’re both retired and you don’t have to thwart me.”  
“Should I have thwarted you?”  
“Nah, not really. I sort of thwarted myself if I’m being honest.”  
“Let me guess. It was one of those genius ideas of yours that causes all sorts of mischief and mayhem for other people, and then backfires on you because you don’t plan far enough ahead," Aziraphale posited.  
“Errr… Something like that, yeah.”

~~~

**  
_Christmas 1982_   
**

_🎶 “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. Oh what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh. HEY!” 🎶_  
Crowley shouted “HEY!” with as much enthusiasm as the children, and the matron gave him a look that was half profound gratitude, half pleading for something quieter. He’d taken it upon himself to entertain the little ones whilst they waited for dinner on Christmas Eve, and was having a blast doing so. He’d always been good with children, and he’d always enjoyed making a general nuisance of himself, so this was the perfect amalgam of the two. He decided he _would_ take it down a notch to settle the children a little before it was time to eat though - mostly so he wouldn't end up with a lapful of over-excited toddler smearing food into his designer threads.3 When they’d sung the final chorus, he put one finger to his lips and sang in a near-whisper.  
_🎶 “Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright. Round yon virgin, mother and child. Holy infant so tender and mild. Sleep in Heavenly peace, sleep in Heavenly peace.” 🎶_  
Crowley of course had met both mother and child, and knew from experience that Heaven wasn’t always peaceful - but Jesus had been a kind young man, and his Earthly parents good caring people, so he had no qualms singing the carol with the children.

Dinner was served as they finished Silent Night, and Crowley made certain that everyone had their favourite foods in quantities that would leave them sated and content. If the other staff were surprised to find that the most popular dishes stretched to second and third helpings for everyone who wanted them, they made no comment on the matter. Christmas was a time for miracles, and they were not inclined to ask questions when such miracles deigned to occur in their presence. 

As the dessert bowls were being cleared from the table, a ding-ding ding-ding and solid footsteps could be heard coming up the front steps, followed by three loud knocks, and a jolly “Ho ho ho, is anyone ho ho home?”  
“SAAAANTAAAAAA!!!” screamed the children, racing each other to the front door.  
Crowley sauntered past them to open it, and nearly slammed it shut again in shock.  
“Azira…”  
“HO HO HO, MEEEEERRY CHRISTMAS!” Aziraphale boomed, drowning out Crowley’s exclamation.

He walked cheerily into the lounge room and encouraged the children to sit in two concentric circles around him - the smaller children forming the inner circle, the older children making up the outer. He handed each child a beautifully wrapped gift, and then called on the staff to give them gifts also. Crowley watched as each member of the household received one of the things they’d wished for - of similar value to avoid fights. 

When one of the younger girls realised Crowley hadn’t received anything, she piped up, “Excuse me, Mr Santa Claus sir, but you’ve missed Mr Crowley - he doesn’t have a present!”  
“Ah, but you see my dear, Mr Crowley’s present isn't something I can carry in my sack. Mr Crowley is going to have lunch with his best friend - I’ve made a booking at their favourite restaurant for them. It was going to be a surprise.”  
The young girl looked horror struck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spoil the surprise!”  
Crowley knelt down and took her little hands in his large ones, saying “It’s alright, I don’t mind that it’s not a surprise. Getting to have lunch with my best friend is exactly what I wished for. That’s the most important thing.”  
“You’re not mad?” she asked, tears in her eyes.  
“Not at all,” Crowley reassured her.  
She looked up at Aziraphale, “and you, Mr Santa Claus? Are you mad that I spoilt the surprise?”  
“No, my dear. Sometimes things are even better when they’re _not_ a surprise.”

~~~

**  
_Christmas 2019_   
**

“You still haven’t explained _why_ you were at the orphanage,” Aziraphale complained.  
“Fine! I was _supposed_ to be there to seduce the matron and turn the kids feral. Happy?”  
“Uh huh. I’m sensing a but--”  
“Buuuuut, as it turned out, the matron was a closeted lesbian - and the kids had already been through so much, I couldn’t bear to make their lives any harder.”  
Aziraphale smirked. “You always were atrociously bad at being a demon.”  
“That’s why you love me.”  
“It’s one of the many reasons why I love you, yes.”

They relaxed in companionable silence until Crowley gently squeezed Aziraphale’s arm and said “Angel?”  
“Yes, my love?”  
“Why’d you tell the little girl that I’d be having lunch with my best friend?”  
“We did go for lunch. We went to the Ritz. Surely you remember?”  
“I know we went for lunch, but you denied we were friends so many times. Why tell that little girl?”  
“Well, for one thing, she didn’t know I was your best friend - it could have been anyone. Hastur. Ligur. Beelzebub.”  
Crowley pulled a more appalled face at each suggestion, and Aziraphale smiled before continuing.  
“For another...sometimes you can only admit things to small children, or dogs, or maybe goldfish.”  
“Not ducks?”  
“Certainly not ducks. Imagine what stories the ones at St James’ Park could tell!”  
“Point taken.”

Crowley took a deep breath, then rearranged himself so that he was twined about Aziraphale in as snakelike a fashion as a more-or-less human corporation could manage, seated in his lap with his forehead resting against the angel’s temple.  
“I love you,” he whispered into Aziraphale’s ear.  
Aziraphale turned his head so that their noses touched. “I love you too,” he breathed.  
They kissed tenderly - a gentle acknowledgement of feelings long held but only recently expressed.

~~~

**  
_Christmas 1982_   
**

“Santa! Mr Santa!” one of the younger boys was trying to get Aziraphale's attention and failing utterly because he was speaking so timidly. Crowley noticed this, and indicated to the angel with a twitch of his head that he should hear what the boy was saying. Aziraphale beckoned him closer, and the boy quietly asked “Mr Santa, how did you get here? Are your reindeer outside?”  
“Well, yes, they are. Not all of them - some are at home having a rest before we do the big trip later tonight, but 6 of them are just outside, looking after my sleigh.”  
“Could we go for a sleigh ride? Please Mr Santa? Just a short one?”  
“I don't see why not!” Aziraphale answered with a grin worthy of his character, and the children cheered. 

The matron looked rather worried at the prospect of letting her charges out of her sight with a man dressed as Santa (no matter how kind he seemed), and was about to shoot down the idea, until Crowley spoke up.  
“Is there room for me too? I've never been on a sleigh pulled by reindeer.”  
“Of course there's room for you Mr Crowley! My sleigh can be as big as it needs to be to fit everybody. It is a magic sleigh, after all,” Aziraphale said with a cheeky smile. 

The children were bundled into coats, scarves, gloves and beanies, then settled cosily into the sleigh with warm tartan blankets across their laps. With a whoosh (and the obligatory jingling of bells) they were off, rising quickly into the night sky. They flew over London Bridge, Buckingham Palace, and Big Ben - the children whooping with delight at each of the sights they'd never seen from above. Even those who usually had a fear of heights felt no trepidation - they instinctively knew that Santa and Mr Crowley would keep them safe. 

They returned to the orphanage after a grand tour of London's best sights for mugs of cocoa and warm baths before bed, and all agreed it was the best Christmas they'd ever had. They would always remember it as such, even after being adopted into loving families, and having children of their own - and many would continue to send Christmas cards addressed to Dear Mr Crowley every year, for they were certain he'd had something to do with the paths their lives had taken. They were correct in this assumption, for Crowley ensured that each and every child he'd cared for had found a home, and the staff he'd worked alongside had enough funds to continue caring for those who were abandoned to the refuge. He truly was atrocious at being a demon.

~~~

**  
_Christmas 2019_   
**

The kiss which started out so tender had gradually progressed to passionate adoration, and Crowley straddled Aziraphale, long fingers working at the buttons of his waistcoat. His tie had already been discarded, as had Crowley's scarf and jacket, and it seemed likely that all remaining garments would shortly follow suit. Unfortunately for the two lovers, their attention was diverted by a loud thumping at the door of the bookshop, and a voice calling out “Mr Crowley! Mr Crowley! Are you there? I need help! Please! Mr Crowley?”  
There were few enough people in the world who called him “Mr Crowley”, and fewer still who knew he'd changed his place of residence, so Crowley immediately scrambled out of Aziraphale's lap, and went to answer the door. 

“Maggie? What's the matter?” he asked, hoping to get swiftly to the point and back to his angel.  
“It's Louisa. She's dying. Please, please can you help?”  
“Dying of what, Maggie?”  
“The hospital don't know, they can't figure it out. One minute she was breathing just fine, the next she collapsed. Now she's on a respirator and hooked up to so many wires she looks like a science experiment. Please, can you come and see her, and do something? I'm begging you!” Maggie cried.  
Aziraphale stood at Crowley's side, fully dressed once more, holding Crowley's jacket and scarf. “Of course we'll come to the hospital. We can take the Bentley, if you'll be so kind as to give Crowley directions, my dear.”  
“Oh! Yes! Thank you!”  
“You take the front, Maggie. It'll be easier to direct from there.” 

Crowley needed no directions whatsoever and could have driven to the hospital blindfolded, however the task of navigating helped to calm the woman who had been so concerned at Santa's lack of gift for her favourite caretaker nearly 4 decades earlier. They reached the hospital minutes later, and raced to the ward where Louisa lay, hooked up to at least half a dozen different machines, as Maggie had said. The little girl did look rather like a science experiment, her face wan and respiration shallow, even with the machine doing most of the work. Her father sat at her bedside, holding one delicate hand as though it was the most precious thing in the world. The boy who had once requested a sleigh ride had grown into a sturdy man, but was still as quietly spoken as ever.  
“Oh, Mr Crowley, thank goodness Maggie found you. Please, can you help our Louisa?”  
“We will certainly try,” Crowley said, taking a seat facing Thomas, and clasping the little girl’s other hand.

Maggie went to stand by her husband, and Aziraphale stood beside Crowley, taking his free hand in his own. Demons as a rule cannot heal, though Crowley was well practiced in speeding along the process for small injuries and minor ailments. Angelic power on the other hand is designed for healing, and Aziraphale allowed his to flow through Crowley like a conduit, soothing pain and repairing damaged lungs. Moments later Louisa’s face had a rosy glow of renewed health, and her eyelids fluttered open.  
“Oh thank you!” Maggie exclaimed, in no doubt that Crowley had saved their daughter’s life, along with everything else he’d done for them over the years.  
“You are _very_ welcome. Just don’t tell the hospital staff we were here - let them think their treatments worked. We’d best be off now. Happy Christmas.”  
“Happy Christmas, Mr Crowley. Happy Christmas Mr Aziraphale,” Thomas said softly.  
“Happy Christmas Maggie, Thomas, and Louisa,” Aziraphale replied, smiling serenely.

They walked hand-in-hand from the ward, spreading little miracles as they made their way back to the Bentley - parked illegally yet somehow without a parking ticket.  
“Did you imagine in 1982 that those two would be married with a daughter of their own?” Aziraphale asked as they got in the car.  
“I didn’t imagine anything that far ahead at the time, no. I’m glad you talked me into giving the orphans the address to the shop though. I would never have forgiven myself if Louisa had died because my mail still went to a PO Box.”  
“Nor would I.”  
“Home?” Crowley asked, as though their destination was in any way undecided.  
“Home,” Aziraphale answered, delighted to finally be sharing it.

~~~

**  
_Christmas 1982_   
**

“That lunch was absolutely scrumptious,” Aziraphale said with a contented wiggle.  
“Glad you enjoyed it, Angel,” Crowley replied, smirking as he recalled how many dishes Aziraphale had put away as he’d sipped a bottle of wine, and nibbled at a small dessert.  
“Should we go and visit the ducks? Make sure they’ve been fed today?” Aziraphale asked as they left the Ritz, clearly looking for any reason to continue spending time together.  
“They’ll harass us as though they’re starving either way, but sure, let’s go visit the ducks.”

They chatted as they made their way to St James’ Park, and meandered around its grounds. Winter was certainly far from picnic weather, but they’d dined at the Ritz a few times since Aziraphale had suggested it in 1967, and Crowley held onto the hope that someday they might be more to each other than good friends. Best friends, if he was interpreting Aziraphale’s conversation at the orphanage correctly. Each other’s only true friend, if they were honest with themselves - which they so often weren’t. So he continued to show his affection in small ways that wouldn’t upset the balance they’d achieved, and _hoped_. Thoroughly undemonic behaviour, hope - but as we’ve previously established, Crowley is (and always has been) an utterly abysmal demon.

~~~

**  
_Christmas 2019_   
**

The front door of the bookshop closed with a thud as Aziraphale pushed Crowley against it, kissing his neck and pulling his jacket off.  
“Now, where were we?” he asked, tossing Crowley’s scarf in the general direction of the coat rack, and missing by at least an arm’s length.  
“I believe you were without a coat and bowtie, and this was open,” Crowley answered as he once again undid the buttons of Aziraphale’s waistcoat.  
“Right you are,” the angel said, and with a snap of his fingers the coat was on the rack, the bowtie upstairs on the nightstand.  
Crowley caught Aziraphale’s mouth in a kiss just this side of sloppy, and snapped his own fingers, sending the rest of their clothes to where they belonged - which in the moment was most assuredly not on their persons. Aziraphale gasped as their flesh came into direct contact, then pressed Crowley even more firmly against the door. 

Crowley paused their kissing just long enough to ask if they “should take this to the bedroom, do you think?” then stuck his tongue back in Aziraphale’s mouth. A reply, as far as he was concerned, was unnecessary. Aziraphale agreed, and grabbing two handfuls of Crowley’s bony rear lifted him clear off the floor. The demon wrapped his arms and legs firmly around the angel, and Aziraphale walked blindly to their bedroom, steering around bookshelves and side tables with some innate sense of where everything was located that thankfully prevented injury. 

Several hours later they lay in bed, Crowley draped once more over Aziraphale - their legs tangled, his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, and one arm flung across his torso. Aziraphale drew snaking swirls on Crowley’s back with his fingertips, and pressed a kiss to the demon’s forehead.  
“I love you.”  
“And I, you.”  
“Best Christmas ever?” Aziraphale asked.  
“Without a doubt,” Crowley replied, with a soft smile only Aziraphale (and _very_ small children) ever saw.

I’d like to say they lived happily ever after, but that’s a much bigger call for eternal immortal beings than it is for humans, so let’s just say they lived happily together beyond the point when time ceased to have meaning, and leave it at that, shall we?

~~~

**Footnotes:**

1 thank Adam! [go back]

2 thank Agnes! [go back]

3 he may love kids, but he still has standards! [go back]

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've written using a prompt, and my first gift exchange. I hope I've done it justice.
> 
> As usual, I have a bit of a soundtrack:
> 
> [I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus](https://youtu.be/2YoFw4RhZT8) \- Twisted Sister  
> (I firmly believe that this would be Crowley's favourite version)  
> [Jingle Bells](https://youtu.be/2tk9wuADoxA) \- Andrea Bocelli and The Muppets  
> [Silent Night](https://youtu.be/5BRVkgaIcaE) \- Kelly Clarkson, Trisha Yearwood and Reba McEntire

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] I Saw Crowley Kissing Santa Claus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21846589) by [TrekBec82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrekBec82/pseuds/TrekBec82)




End file.
